lives, I think there will be thousands o f them, I think it will be a
crowd, a mob, a riot, a revolution, and I think they will chant
his name, and I think they will surround his house, and I think
they will block the city streets for blocks, and I think they will
stop traffic, and I think no one will be able to pass in or out and
they w ill stop the police from getting to him to protect him
because they will stretch for miles and someone, an unknown
someone, will kill him, it will be one and it will be all and no
one will ever know who except for her herself, they will smash
him or shoot him or knife him, or fifty will knife him, or a
hundred, but so it’s final, not making a mistake, they will kill
him good and real and quick, and no one will know who,
because it will be all o f them; for me; do this; for me; and when
an indictment is read they will all stand up; for me; including
the ones who heard me scream and including the ones who
weren’t born yet. M y eyes work. I see. It is not a mystery. If
it’s in front o f you you can see how it works itself out. It’s not
prophecy; it’s simple seeing; what is there; now; naked from
the lies. I see the future, a pretty place. The men make a sex
circus, we are the performing animals. There are hoops o f fire,
we are chained in cages, they whip us to make us jum p: high
enough for them to look under. We jum p, we hop, we spread
our legs; they’ll paint us purple underneath; or shave us so we
look like babies; or put brands on us, or chains through us,
underneath; they’ll hurt us, more; more than now; more;
killing w on ’t be enough; rape will be the good old days, when
it was simple, how they just forced us, in private, or how they
just beat us, with fists, in private, or how they put fingers
inside us, when we were too small, underneath; w e’ll be the
dog-and-pony show; they’ll leash us and they’ll manacle us
and they’ll paint us pink and w e’ll have nostalgia for the good
old days when the living was easy before they grabbed us o ff
the streets in vans and gang-raped us and bashed us with
baseball bats, smashing us not looking where, arms, head,
chest, stomach, legs, and filmed it, and dumped us, some o f us
lived, some o f us died, or before they set dogs on us to fuck us,
and filmed it, or before they cut us open, to ejaculate on us,
and filmed it, or before they started urinating on us, using us
like common toilets, to film it; but I don’t expect to be listened
to or believed, certainly even the simplest things o f an already
distinguished life cannot be believed, I couldn’t say anything
simple in the whole course o f m y actual life and have there be
belief; as if justice for me, from him to me, could count; but I
been through that; m y grievances on that score are between
the lines, at least there, always read the white space; I’m tired
from it and I’m sad; Walt could say blah blah blah this will
